


Race To The Finish

by missingnolovefic



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Alternate Universe - Racing, M/M, Meet-Cute, Pre-Fake AH Crew, illegal street races
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 05:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12248103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missingnolovefic/pseuds/missingnolovefic
Summary: Michael knows that bike. Has seen it at the races. And he can't help himself but chase after theVagabondeven as the cops start following them.





	Race To The Finish

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sorcererinslytherin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorcererinslytherin/gifts).



> Happy Birthday, Sorc! I hope you like your ficlet :D

The traffic light was red. Michael tapped impatiently on the steering wheel, watching cars drive by until the flow petered out. A glance up, but the light was still red.

A bike pulled up next to him and revved its motor.

Michael frowned, glaring at the guy because he already took the outermost left lane, how dare that asshole-! Michael honked his horn, and the biker revved his motor again. His brow furrowed. The glass of the helmet was dark, Michael could barely make out the biker’s smirk. A stark white skull was painted over the top and sides, and Michael swore.

He recognized the guy.

A glance down at the heavy black bike confirmed his suspicions, the jagged, white script declaring it the _Vagabond._ He knew that bike, watched it fly past many competitors on the dirt track, winning a race every other night. And _Vagabond_ must have recognized Michael’s baby, too, because he was revving his motor again.

Michael honked a quick acknowledgement, using the code of the illegal street races.

The biker turned to stare at him, and Michael stared back, raising a brow in question. The biker smirked, revved his motor again, and then he was off. Michael cursed, sparing barely a look for the yellow light before he gunned it, speeding after the bike.

 _Vagabond_ had a decent head start and a bike was nimbler to boot, weaving through oncoming traffic and passing other cars easily. Michael swerved, barely avoiding a truck heading his way as he chased after him. They followed the street down a curve, and the bike gained some more distance before they pulled onto the highway.

Michael stepped on the gas.

The straightaway was his chance, his car packing more horsepower than the bike. He slowly gained on the _Vagabond_ as the cars thinned out, leaving him free to pull ahead. He pressed the horn three times rapidly, grinning wildly as he overtook his opponent in the impromptu race.

Now it was Michael’s turn to lead, bringing them around the city in a loop and heading for the airport. _Vagabond_ caught up with him on the exit, Michael having to slow down at the tight turn. The bike remained doggedly at his flank, using his car’s larger bulk to clear the way. Michael was kinda impressed and curious what kind of mods enabled the bike to keep up, and more importantly, where did he get them.

Sirens blared in the distance, and the red and blue lights in his rearview mirror caught Michael’s attention. A cop car had joined their race.

Michael pulled up next to _Vagabond_ with a honk, jerking his head over his shoulder to indicate the new challenger. The biker seemed to stare into the mirror for a long second before turning to Michael and nodding firmly. He grinned back and stepped on the gas, shooting forward. The bike dropped back, and Michael watched in the rearview as _Vagabond_ started to tease the coppers, slowing down until he was tantalizingly within reach. Then he pulled away onto the sidewalk, weaving between lampposts, parked cars and the occasional tree, before taking a sharp right into a tiny side-alley and vanishing from view.

For a moment, the police slowed down, as if torn between which of them to follow.

Michael threw his head back and barked out a laugh, free and wild. Grinning fiercely, he spun the wheel around and pulled the handbrake, sliding around in a one-eighty, wheels smoking as they spun out. He came to a halt opposite the cop car, revving his motor as a warning before he let go of the brakes and shot forward, flashing his lights at the startled cops as he whisked past.

Michael smirked. He knew where that alley led.

As the cops chased him back down the streets, following him as he took a sharp left, he glimpsed a piece of shiny black metal from the corner of his eyes. The biker must have been waiting for him, that asshole, because he took his bike up the makeshift ramp out of that alley just as Michael shot by. _Vagabond_ flew through the air, jumping over Michael’s car before landing on his other side. Michael whooped loudly and he could swear his fellow racer shot him a fierce grin before pulling ahead.

They led the cops on a merry chase across the city, gathering and losing cars left and right.

Finally, Michael could hear the _thump, thump, thump_ of a helicopter’s blade, and he slowed down a little. The biker drew up on the driver’s side, and they exchanged a short look. Then the biker took a hand off the handle and made three quick symbols. Michael nodded in acknowledgement. The biker nodded back and then swerved sharply to the left. Michael watched him for a long second, before he split down the other street.

It took him a while to shake the cops, but once he was certain he lost them, he looped back around and headed for the dirt track. This early in the afternoon, no one else was there. The races didn’t start until dusk.

Michael parked at the finish line, grabbing his jacket from the backseat. It’s gotten a little chilly in Los Santos, and he’d only thrown on the nearest available t-shirt before leaving home. He leaned against the hood of his car, arms crossed and waiting. It didn’t take long for _Vagabond_ to arrive. Michael watched him closely as he pulled up, let his gaze trail over the tight leather pants and how they hugged his ass as the man got off the bike. Took in the wide shoulders bolstered by the dark leather jacket, before finally locking eyes with the driver. The man stared back for a long moment, no one moving.

Then he raised his hands and took his helmet off.

Michael mustered him curiously, taking in the black and white paint around his eyes with a faint pang of amusement as he realized it was probably a skull pattern before it dripped and smeared with sweat. Watched as the man brushed back a damp strand of hair, which seemed to have escaped his low ponytail. Then he locked gaze with the bluest eyes he’d ever seen, and for a second he couldn’t breathe.

“Hi,” the biker said, voice a deep, dark rumble. “Nice car you’ve got there.”

“Nice bike,” Michael returned automatically, swallowing. He shook his head dazedly, before holding out a hand. “Nice to meet you, _Vagabond_.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, Double-Oh Mogar,” he drawled as his fingers curled around Michael’s, and Michael cursed his heart for skipping a beat. He was _not_ going to swoon like some teenage girl in a movie!

“Call me Michael,” he offered flippantly, and the grip on his hand tightened for a second. It was not hot, _dammit_.

“Ryan,” the biker returned after a pause, and Michael rolled that name around in his head. Ryan. _Ryan_. He liked it.

“You must have some great mods on your bike,” Michael continued a little awkwardly, dropping Ryan’s hand reluctantly. “Didn’t think you’d be able to keep up.”

Ryan’s brow furrowed as he looked at his bike, before turning back to Michael.

“It’s all about skill,” he replied smoothly, mouth ticking up. “Honestly, I thought I’d lose you quickly with how thick traffic was. Really, _I’m_ impressed.”

“My car’s faster,” Michael reminded him, narrowing his eyes. “I’d’ve won if it weren’t for the cops.”

“And a bike’s still nimbler,” Ryan retorted, grin growing. “Besides, a bike can go fast when even a car has to slow down.”

“If you want to spin out in a sharp turn, sure,” Michael drawled back, eyeballing Ryan’s bike overtly. “As nimble as a bike can be, you got quite the heavy machine there.”

“I suppose it depends on the terrain,” Ryan conceded, and Michael felt himself deflate.

“I guess.” He gave Ryan a small smile. “Shame our little competition got interrupted though.”

“How about a proper race, then?” Ryan suggested, arching a brow. He let his eyes flicker between his bike and Michael’s baby. “Two laps. See if your car can beat my bike.”

“Loser pays for dinner,” Michael stipulated, smirking up at him. Ryan cocked his head, sharp blue gaze flicking over him.

“You asking me out on a date?” he drawled, something like a Southern accent to his voice. Michael smirked.

“Only if I lose. I win, you gotta ask me, asshole.”

Ryan mustered him again, eyes lingering on his hips, his shoulders. Finally, he looked back up and mirrored Michael’s smirk.

“Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> I made a little aesthetic to go with this story. You can find it [here](http://miss-ingno.tumblr.com/post/165974560217/myan-streetrace-au-happy-birthday).
> 
> If you like this story, please leave me a comment here or come talk to me over on my tumblr :)


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